Fight or Flight
by GlitterQueenGlitz
Summary: When Cackles's Academy is selected for a random inspection, Constance Hardbroom thinks the idea to be beneficial until a mention of someone from her past makes her question whether to fight her demons or flee from them again. Takes place during the episode "The Inspector Calls" with some obvious twists in it. Rated M for later Chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Pain. That was all she felt other than the hot tears stinging her face and for every tear there was more pain. Never ending pain.

"Stop your crying girl! I told you I won't have any childish behaviour!" The voice, belonging to her tutor shouted at her as Constance trembled, trying in vain to stop the flow of tears as her tutor continued shouting things she didn't register.

"Y-yes, M-Mistress B-Broomhead." She stuttered out, her voice weak and trembling as much as her body was. Sharply her arm was twisted behind her, almost to the point of breaking and Constance couldn't hold back her scream she emitted, catching the look of pure satisfaction on Mistress Heckitty Broomhead's face at the sound as more pain shot through her.

"Scream all you want Connie, no one will hear you, you're mine girl and you _will_ learn your lesson!" A harder twist and Constance could hear the sickening sound of her bones cracking. She didn't want to give in but if she didn't, the pain wouldn't stop.

"I-I'm sorry Mistress Broomhead, I won't do it again!" She gasped out, struggling to conceal the stutter and tremor in her voice that her tutor despised. She was not even able to recall what it was she'd done this time.

"You have too much potential Constance, to waste it on useless things like poetry!" She spat the last word venomously in the young girl's face, as if the act itself were a crime. She swallowed the whimper bubbling in her throat as Mistress Broomhead released her arm. An act she most more than grateful for.

"Perhaps some time in solitude darkness will serve as a reminder as to why you are here?" It wasn't a question Constance dare answer as a cruel smile spread across the thin painted lips of Heckitty Broomhead and Constance bit her lip until she drew blood to remain silent. Like every other eight year old, she was terrified of the dark and her tutor knew this all too well. Within a moment, she grabbed Constance by her dress collar and dragged her down a set of stairs as the brunette pleaded for her to stop.

"P-please Mistress Broomhead, I-I'll behave, I'll perfect that vanishing spell just please don't…" Her pleas fell silent as she was tossed into a dark cell, the cold concrete chilling her as she came in contact with it. She let out a petrified shriek as the heavy metal door closed shut, deliberately slow to draw out her fate before the lock on the door turned and Constance was left in the dark, her nails scratching helplessly at the door still pleading with her tutor. "No! Please Mistress B-Broomhead! Please don't leave me here again! Please!"

Constance awoke screaming, her dark hair plastered to her face by the sheen of sweat covering it. She gasped for air as she took in where she was. She wasn't in the dark cell; she was in her bedchamber at Cackle's. As relief flowed through her, slowly her fingers released their vice-like grip they had on the purple bedclothes. As she turned her head to sweep the hair and tears off her face she was met with a concerned pair of green eyes. Imogen.

"Constance? Constance are you alright?" The blonde asked the trembling witch.

The Potions Mistress and Gym Mistress has admitted their less than professional feelings for each other around two months ago after a sudden kiss between the two, that to Constance's utter dismay occurred on Valentine's day, breaking down some of the barriers and tension between the two. Of course they had gone to great lengths to hide their affections for one another from everyone, including Headmistress of the Academy, Amelia Cackle, which was partly, if not wholly through the aid of a soundproofing spell on Constance's bedchamber where the two had mutually and secretively moved in with one another and shared the same bed. Now that soundproofing spell served its initial purpose, blocking out the brunette's screams of terror whenever a nightmare caught hold of her. Imogen Drill knew the curt response she would receive from the Potions Mistress before she had finished her question.

"I'm fine." Constance replied emotionlessly even though from the tear trails on her face it was evident to the non-witch, that she was anything but fine.

By now Imogen knew better than to question further, it was not the first time she had awoken to Constance screaming and clutching the sheets in terror only to be told she was 'fine'. The blonde wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms reassuringly around the witch beside her, but knew such an act would be unwelcome and likely end in argument between the two of them, so she lay still. She gazed forlornly at Constance's back, as she had turned away, her eyes tracing the delicate waves of her dark hair as the fell across the purple satin of her nightdress.

Constance lay facing the concrete wall, willing the tears to stop flowing down her cheeks, finding that much like in her nightmare, it was a futile attempt. She hated Imogen seeing her like this, so vulnerable and scared, but she couldn't bring herself to open up to her about her past, it was something that aside from the nightmares she could forget or at least try to. More than anything she hated how easily Heckitty Broomhead could slip into her sub consciousness like a snake. Something tugged at her however about this particular nightmare, it had been so real and vivid she half expected to find her wrist broken when she awoke. She was certain there was a reason for it and whether she knew it or not, as she lay staring wide eyed at the wall; Constance Hardbroom was about to receive her answer.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi! So I've been super inspired lately so already here is the second chapter and hopefully tonight I can also get the third up! You guys are so sweet and thank you so much for the kind reviews, you have no idea what they mean to me!

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><p>After a typical potions lesson with Mildred Hubble, ending with the entire class erupting into hiccups as a result of a spilt potion, by the clumsy girl herself, and the less than pleasant way she'd woken up that morning, Constance could not imagine what awaited her when Amelia called a meeting of the staff during the girls' study periods.<p>

The Headmistress had not said a word of what it was about as she scurried through the halls of the academy to the staff room, Constance following close behind on her heels.

After Ameila had announced they had been selected to have an inspection as a result of 'goings on', Constance caught Imogen's slight gulp but took care not to linger on the Gym Mistress for too long, although the same though was ringing through the minds of both women. _Goings on? Surely that didn't mean Ofwitch knows about us? _

Constance instead listened to the concerns of her colleagues and thoroughly fond of the idea of some changes in Academic Discipline voiced the thought that this inspection could be quite beneficial to the Academy.

"Do we know the name of our visitor?" She asked calmly, thinking that as Davina had not so eloquently put it, the inspectors were failed old witches and hoped that putting a name to this person would lighten the concern that hung in the air like cobwebs.

"Um yes, it's here somewhere…" Amelia trailed off as her eyes scanned the letter in front of her, a more difficult task as she had forgotten her glasses that sat atop her head. Feeling the eyes of every staff member on her as she scanned, she finally located the signature. "Mistress Heckitty Broomhead." She read off, the paper a little too close to her face, and a sound that couldn't' be quite categorized as a whimper, squeak or gasp left Constance's lips as a wave of images from her nightmares and her past, flooded through her mind, a cold chill running through her at the very name. Surely this couldn't be? Not after all the years she had spent free from her grasp. It was clear from the letter however, that it was true, after all that time Mistress Broomhead was being thrown back into her life. Her first frantic thought was Imogen, the beautiful blonde she had come to love, who took her for what she was even when she couldn't will herself to explain the white scars that tainted every inch of her skin beneath her high collared dresses. One way or another Mistress Broomhead would find out about the two and Constance knew that her former tutor would stop at nothing to destroy Imogen and take her away from her.

Constance had to choke back another whimper at the thought of losing Imogen to _her_, her hand reaching out to catch the tabled as her knees gave way, her fingernails scraping the underside of the wood as she sank into a nearby chair with as much control and grace as she could manage. It was then she made her decision, to save and protect Imogen, she would have to break her own heart.

She suddenly became aware of the three pairs of eyes looking at her, a set of green ones in particular that held the same look they had that morning. The other staff members were shocked at seeing the strong, icy potions mistress show such fear and her next words confirmed her visible distress.

"Ladies, be afraid, be very afraid." She herself was surprised she had formed a full sentence without a hint of stuttering, considering the panic setting in on her. Swiftly she exited the staff room, walking briskly down the hall, exhaling quickly as she formed her plan of action mentally, knowing it would be mere moments before one or all of the women she'd left confused followed her. As she picked up speed, with each corner she rounded, she half-reminded herself not to run in the halls, as she had told the girls many times before and in fact had given Enid Nightshade 500 lines that very morning of 'I must not run through the halls of the Academy.' Of course she could have just materialized herself to her chamber, which was unconsciously the direction she was heading, despite her having a lesson with the third years in thirty minutes time, but the thought didn't cross her mind. Instead her mind echoed with 'Mistress Broomhead is coming here tomorrow, and I will have to face her again.'

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><p>AN: So I apologize that this chapter was mostly re-hashing of the beginning of the episode but I really wanted to explore Constance's thoughts after learning the inspector was Mistress Broomhead and needed the basic plot to start with, but the rest of the chapters won't really follow the episode like this one, I promise!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Haha what is regular updating? Actually though since I'm dealing with school stuff, I'll be updating when I can, but I will try to update at least once a week, but I might update more than that if I can!

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><p>It had been difficult to say the least for Amelia to get the reason behind Constance's reaction to the name and all three members of staff had been surprised that this Mistress Heckitty Broomhead had been Constance's personal tutor at Witch Training College. While Davina and Amelia went off to teach their afternoon classes, Imogen stayed to talk with Constance. She had to know why Constance Hardbroom, who was usually not alarmed at the slightest thing and who could with a flick of her hand fix any situation with a spell, was shaken up by this woman. This past teacher of hers.<p>

"Constance, can't you just tell me what it is about this woman that alarms you?" Imogen asked, stopping the witch in her tracks. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the Gym Mistress, feeling the tightness in her chest getting heavier with what she was about to say.

"No Miss Drill, I cannot and furthermore I don't believe you have the right to ask. I have informed you of who we are dealing with tomorrow and my previous relations with Mistress Broomhead are not of your concern." Constance hated herself for addressing her beloved Imogen that way, but it had to be done and she couldn't stop there. "Furthermore, would it be too much to ask that you address me properly Miss Drill?"

There weren't any students about, so the necessity that Constance felt she had to call her 'Miss Drill', hurt the blonde and it was reflected in her eyes. "Constance, I thought we moved past this. I just want to help you, I love you." The last three words were whispered and Constance has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from saying it back to her, but she knew she couldn't, not if Imogen would live. She needed her to hate her.

"I do not require your assistance Miss Drill, as I've told you multiple times I'm fine. Your proclamation makes me realize now I have let this charade carry on for far too long." If Constance hadn't learnt great self-control, the words she spoke would have made tears fall and the look she saw in Imogen's eyes even more so. Hoping that would be the end of it, Constance turned and opened the door to the potions lab, however Imogen followed her in.

"Ch-charade Constance?" The tremor in her voice was unmistakable and Constance didn't dare turn to face her as she replied coldly.

"Yes, charade Miss Drill, surely even a non-witch understands the meaning; to pretend or act differently than oneself, I believe is the official definition." She could practically hear the blonde's heart break, not only had she been insulting, she had thrown the non-witch card at her yet again.

"I-is that all I was to you Constance? A game? Something to toy with to make your life of solitude more interesting?" Her words were like daggers in the brunette's heart, she knew she was hurting her and she had to think quickly for an answer to Imogen's questions. Suddenly the spine of a spell volume, entitled _The Dangers of Love Potions and Their Uses _caught her eye, the book wasn't used in her lessons of course it, those potions were far too unpredictable but in this instance it would do the job. Putting up her icy exterior she was more than well known for, she finally turned to face Imogen and replied with as much carelessness as she could manage.

"I don't know whether it was all games, as I haven't quite been myself lately. All of this was simply a result of a love potion gone wrong. It was meant as a demonstration to the fourth years as a sort of Valentine's Day surprise but it was far too potent, the effects have only just subsided completely this morning." As she spoke she used all her strength to not let even a flicker in her eyes give her away as tears fell from Imogen's and streamed down her tanned face.

Constance wanted to stop her hurtful words, to stop the pain she was inflicting on Imogen with the outright lies. She wanted to take it all back, brush the tears away from her eyes and just hold the blonde, but her resolve to protect her, kept the witch still and unmoving, even as Imogen opened her mouth to speak.

"Very well Miss Hardbroom, I'm sorry to have wasted so much of your time. Clearly I was mistaken about the meaning behind these past few months. Rest assured that all of my belongings will be moved back into my chambers before dinner commences."

The brunette couldn't dwell on the words spoken, with such courage and calmness and simply nodded.

"If it isn't too much trouble, it would be most appreciated Miss Drill."

As if to dismiss the Gym Mistress Constance turned around without another word, pretending to examine various ingredients in the cabinet, only wincing when she heard the door of the lab slam shut. It was done, she had broken Imogen's heart and her own, and she had successfully pushed away the first person to truly care about her. As she wrote on the chalkboard and prepared for her next lesson, she prayed to whoever might be listening that after Mistress Broomhead was gone, she could win Imogen back. A lone tear slid down her cheek at the thought that she might never be able to.

Imogen meanwhile, had never walked to the sports shed as fast as she did after she left the potions lab. A mixture of hurt and rage bubbled inside her and was present on her face. "How could she? Just brush everything off like that, as if it meant nothing?" She mumbled to herself, feeling sick with the realization. "It hadn't meant anything to her; it was just something she had to suffer through as a result of a bloody potion!" She yelled as she shed door closed with a bang. She began tidying and cleaning everything as she continued ranting to herself, trying to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. "Well she certainly wasn't suffering last night, in bed with me!"

After the years of torment she'd suffered as a result of her feeling for Constance, the rejection she'd felt whenever she spoke harsh words to her, seemingly proving she didn't return Imogen's feelings without directly knowing about them herself. Imogen had been allowed a few months of happiness and bliss through it all, it hadn't been easy though, nothing with Constance Hardbroom ever was. There had been arguments over how Imogen left her things strewn about the room they secretly shared, how one of them would gaze at the other during staff meetings instead of paying attention to Davina's ramblings and even arguments over the amount of time Constance spent seeing to the countless detentions she gave every day. At this moment however, Imogen would have given anything to be arguing with the brunette witch again, only for them both to apologize later and kiss each other senseless. That soft skin under her fingertips, burgundy lips on her own and those long fingernails raking through her short blonde hair as the witch cried out her name in ecstasy.

"Miss Drill?"

The voice shook her abruptly from her thoughts, her erotic thoughts of the woman who had just shattered her heart as easily as a dropping a potions vial on the floor, she grimaced and berated herself as she turned around to face whoever the voice belonged to. She should have guessed. Mildred Hubble.

"Hello Mildred, what can I do for you?" She forced a cheery tone, something she realized she'd be doing a lot more often in the future.

"Oh, I, um think I left my chanting book here yesterday." Mildred replied and Imogen remembered having seen a book on one of the shelves.

"Oh yes, here it is Mildred." She picked up the book from its place between two tennis racquets and the girl's face lit with a smile of relief as it was handed back to her.

"Oh thank you, Miss." She thanked her Gym Mistress before noticing the sadness on her face and the tears in her eyes, that threatened to spill over. "Are you alright Miss Drill?" Mildred asked concerned for her teacher and Imogen felt rather than heard the words leave her lips.

"I'm fine Mildred." As the girl went off, tripping once over her bootlaces that were as usual not tied properly, Imogen ensured that she was out of sight before she allowed violent sobs to wrack her body as she knelt behind a shelf, out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello lovelies! I have been having a tough time with final work for school and reading your reviews instantly brighten my day! Anyway here is Chapter 4 [and because I've already written it Chapter 5 will follow]. It seems these two have taken over my life and I find myself constantly thinking about them and thus writing! I'm grateful to have you all, along for the ride!

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><p>Standing outside her chamber door, Constance paused, mentally preparing herself for what was behind it. She hadn't gone to her chamber since her conversation with Imogen that afternoon. She felt quite ridiculous standing there, staring at the door unable to reach for the handle to open it. "Well if you can't open the damn door Constance <em>appear<em> inside instead." She scolded herself, folding her arms and vanishing a moment, only to reappear on the other side.

Some crazy part if her, almost hoped Imogen would be there still, curled up on the bed with some sports magazine or cliché romance novel. The sight that greeted Constance however, was beyond painful. With Imogen's belongings gone, the room was too empty, too cold, and void of any proof anyone lived there. The bookshelves contained only Constance's spell and potions volumes, organized alphabetically, the desk was bare and even the bed which was usually only half made; as Constance insisted on making her side every morning, while Imogen refused, was straight and neat on both sides. She felt overwhelmed as her knees began to buckle under her for the second time that day. Slumping down the door, she hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed silently.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head, she'd have to do Lights Out in a moment and she wouldn't let the girls see her like this. As she put a hand to the floor to push herself up, she saw something under the bed in the shadows. Crawling on her knees, Constance pulled it out and felt her face heat instantly. It was one of Imogen's bras; no doubt, Constance herself had carelessly tossed it there during one of their nights of passion. As if it had scorched her, she dropped it to the floor. "Well I can't very well keep it." She muttered to herself as she dressed in her purple nightgown, pulling a black robs over her shoulders and tying it at the waist and freeing her hair from its usual bun.

As she checked the girls were all in bed, specifically their own bed in the case of Griselda Blackwood and Fenella Feverfew who had yet again tried to sleep in the same one; she thought about what to do with the article of clothing, or rather underclothing that sat on the desk in her room. She supposed as difficult and mortifying as it would be to do so, she ought to return it.

All too soon Constance found herself outside the door of Imogen's room, faced with the same dilemma she'd had at her own room and this time she couldn't very well materialize inside. Finally she got up the gall to rap twice on the door, sharply.

Hearing the knock at the door, Imogen got up from where she sat at her desk, assigning relay teams to the girls for tomorrow's lesson and opened it. There stood Constance Hardbroom, her hair loose around her shoulders, in only her nightclothes and holding a piece of cloth. She realized that 'cloth' was one of her bras and she turned pink.

"Good Evening Miss Hardbroom." She greeted the potions mistress, her eyes looking at the floor.

"Good Evening Imo-Miss Drill. " She corrected herself quickly as she held up the garment in her hand. "I've come to return your…brassiere." Constance managed, her cheeks as red as Imogen's. "I assumed you would want it back." She finished holding it out.

"Oh, well thank you Con-Miss Hardbroom, that's thoughtful of you." In truth, Imogen wasn't paying attention to what Constance was saying but rather her face…was Constance blushing? A spark of hope lit in her heart as she took a step closer, Constance's eyes widening in alarm. _"Maybe, she didn't mean it. Maybe she was just being Constance; maybe we still have a chance."_ At least that's what she told herself as her lips crashed in Constance's in a passionate kiss, her fingers knotting in the long, dark waves.

At first Constance tried to resist , but as Imogen had already done countless times before, she found herself slipping further under Imogen's spell as she allowed Imogen to pull her into the room and push her down onto the bed, their lips still locked, focused only on the sweet, harshness of the blonde's lips on her own. She moaned softly as Imogen's tongue slid between her lips and into her mouth, feeling her own be caressed lovingly by it.

Constance was in such a trance, so intoxicated by Imogen and her touches and kisses she forgot what she'd done that very afternoon and her reasoning for doing so, until Imogen's knee between her thighs and whispered words, snapped her out of it and she shot up from the bed, practically knocking the blonde to the floor in her haste.

"Miss Drill! After our conversation today this is hardly professional behaviour!" She exclaimed in a shrill voice, forgetting Imogen's room wasn't sound proofed with a spell as hers was.

Imogen sat up her eyes burning with hurt and anger. "Tell me then, to my face Constance, that what just happened meant less than nothing to you." Her tone was like a slap in the face to Constance, who struggled to answer.

"I..that was…You caught me off guard Miss Drill. If you are looking for confirmation of your skills in the art of seduction then I will admit, they are more than satisfactory, but other than that I-" Imogen interrupted the witch before she could finish, her tone as biting and sharp as before.

"That's bullshit and you bloody well know that! _You kissed me back!_ You are as much to blame as I am!" Imogen seethed and Constance folded her arms. "No, you don't get to just-"She didn't bother finishing as she had already vanished into thin air. "Fine! You win! I give up on you Constance Hardbroom!" With an exasperated sigh Imogen sank onto the bed as Constance caught the tail end of what she'd said, before she had completely vanished.

As she re-materialized into her own chamber, she immediately reached for the bottle of Wide Awake potion she'd left on the vanity and downed the liquid. If there was one thing she knew for certain, she wouldn't be sleeping tonight. The potion burned the back of her throat, like a sort of Scottish brandy. Constance hadn't taken the potion in months, having spent every night Imogen however the familiar hold it took on her senses was strange but not unwelcome.

She wished the potion had the capability to lift mental fatigue as well as physical so she could forget about what had happened and ignore the swelling and tingling of her lips. Slowly she removed the bottle from her lips, grimacing at the ring of burgundy lipstick she'd left around the rim. She smudged it off with her finger only to find the colour had stained her pale fingertip instead. A long sigh left the brunette's lips. "How appropriate, I can't fix the things I make a mess of; I just transfer the damage from place to place." She said, sitting at her desk to begin the stacks of marking she had yet to complete. It was about to be a very long night indeed.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I did it! Hooray! Chapter 5! I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors, I'm typing what I've written in my notebook and don't catch everything. Well it looks like things are going from bad to worse for Imogen and Constance and Broomhead's visit is still looming *cue dramatic music as the chapter begins*

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><p>Every minute felt like an hour to Constance. She had finished her marking and was becoming fidgety at having nothing to do. She had a supply of her potion so brewing it again to pass the time would be wasteful and unnecessary. The room was neat, even her hair had been braided into its usual bun, several times over, simply starting again when it wasn't perfect.<p>

"Perfect?" a voice in her head echoed. "You'll never be perfect Constance, you're sick, you're damaged an no amount of potential in witchcraft can change that." She tried desperately to shut out the voice.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror; dark hair pulled into a too tightly wound bun, dark eyes that could convey utter kindness and icy coldness, ghostly pale skin that made her look almost ill, sharp cheekbones that could cut glass and thin darkly painted lips. Constance had never thought herself to be pretty, such thoughts of vanity had been, quite physically knocked out of her at the tender age of ten. As she stared, her mind reeled back as the memory began to unfold in front of her eyes like a scene.

_She stood at the small mirror of her cold bedroom at Witch Training College brushing her long dark hair. It hung well past her waist in the morning when she could have it loose as she brushed it, before she arranged it into two neat plaits on either side of her head. She never let Mistress Broomhead see it loose; she had instructed her to wear the plaits until she told her otherwise. Constance suspected it was because her plaits made it easily for her tutor to pull when she misbehaved and it was her secret at night that she wore it loose to bed. Constance should have known that her tutor would materialize in her room at half past five like every other morning to begin her training, but she'd spent one second longer gazing at her reflection, at her hair, a hint of a smile on her face when Mistress Broomhead promptly appeared._

"_You have vanity in you Constance." The voice made her blood freeze and the colour drain from her face as she spun to face her._

"_Mistress B-Broomhead." She tried to greet her as calmly and politely as she could her dark hair fanning behind her._

"_Do you think yourself pretty Constance? Don't you dare lie to me girl!" Her voice frightened Constance, either way she would be punished, she decided to tell the truth._

"_Yes Mistress Broomhead." She admitted to the flicker of the thought she'd had, her eyes downcast._

"_This vainness will distract you from your studies Constance…" She held her breath seeing the gears turning in Heckitty's head on how to punish her this time. "Fetch me your herb blade Constance." Mistress Broomhead demanded and Constance moved to her desk to get it from her school bag, hands trembling as she held the blade out to her tutor, swallowing the lump in her throat as she imagined the things her cruel Mistress could do with it, the cut in her leg from the night before suddenly becoming painful again._

_ A sharp yank on her hair brought her out of her imaginings and her eyes met with those of her tutor as she held her hair tightly in one hand, the blade she had given her in the other. Her eyes filled with tears with the realization of what Mistress Broomhead was going to do. Using the sharp end of the blade, Mistress Broomhead began to hack off bits of her long hair, unevenly on both sides until Constance's hair only just brushed her shoulders, just long enough to braid. She made not a sound at seeing her beautiful tresses scattered over the floor and simply stood still trying not to shake under the scrutiny of her tutor as she searched for signs of weakness in the young girl._

"_That should ensure you don't waste so much time brushing your hair." There was a hint of glee in Mistress Broomhead's voice as obediently, Constance plaited her hair neatly and quickly. She held a small glimmer of hope that, the loss of her beautiful long locks would be enough to punish her, she should have known it wouldn't be. _

_Mistress Broomhead grabbed her arm, forcing the long sleeve up and pressed the blade into the delicate skin of Constance's forearm, just enough to send rivers of blood down her arm. She looked silently from her now bleeding arm to her tutor. There was more, she knew it. "You will write out 1000 lines 'I will not let personal vanity interrupt my studies.' I expect them to be written out neatly and on my desk before noon."_

Constance blinked and shook her head to clear the memory away, swiping at the tears that had lingered on her cheeks. "Is that where I learned that?" She asked herself, almost disgusted that Heckitty Broomhead of all people had taught her anything about disciplining children, as being assigned lines as a punishment was thought of to be the trait of Miss Hardbroom. "I would never harm a student, not even Mildred Hubble as much as the girl is a nuisance, and certainly never anything to the degree that she did. I'm strict, not cruel." She reassured herself, her eyes flickering to the clock on the wall, suppressing a groan at seeing her little flashback had only caused twenty minutes or so to pass. Constance strode to her bookcase, plucking a red leather bound volume off the shelf, not caring what the title was and sat at her desk, her back straight as she opened the book hoping this would pass more time and with a sigh she began to read.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Terribly sorry for my disappearance and lack of an update, I had many final things for school to get done and this was put on the back burner, but I am now off for two weeks so I will hopefully be posting more frequently as I will have more time to let Constance and Imogen take over my mind again.

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><p>Time it seemed was not on Constance' side. While the night had been tortuously slow, the early morning passed far too quickly for her liking. She grabbed her plainest black dress and began the task of buttoning all thirty buttons up, sighing when at last; the final one at her throat was done. Normally at this time of day she would sit at her desk and watch Imogen come back from her morning run, but to avoid more anguish, she had taken care not to even so much as glance in the direction of the window lest she catch sight of the blonde. With a quick look in the mirror to ensure not even a hair was out of place, the potions mistress folded her arms and vanished, reappearing in the staff room moments later.<p>

"Constance!" Davina Bat shrieked when Constance appeared out of nowhere as per usual. "You'll give me heart palpitations!" Davina shrieked again and Constance rolled her eyes, pressing her lips together.

"Yes Miss Bat, I know. You feel the need to remind me every morning. It has become a bit of a routine, which is why I can't understand how you don't know that I enter the staffroom at exactly quarter past seven." Constance replied coldly to the chanting mistress.

"I see no reason why you can't use the door Constance, must you flaunt your talents every second you can?" Davina questioned, standing up to pour a cup of tea.

"Surely you would feel the same Miss Bat if you had any talent other than teaching the girls to shriek at all hours of the day." Came the edged reply from Constance who had also began making a cup of tea when a squeak came from Davina and taking her teacup, walked to the cupboard and locked herself in and Constance sighed. "Miss Bat, do you expect to spend the entire day in there?" She asked as Miss Cackle entered the staffroom, noticing only Constance in the room.

"Constance, have you seen Miss Bat this morning?" Amelia inquired as Constance pointed a finger at the cupboard.

"Miss Cackle, might I suggest you check the cupboard. Honestly, a grown woman has no excuse for acting so childishly and if-" Constance didn't get a chance to finish her statement before Amelia cut her off.

"Constance, I understand you must be on edge with Mistress Broomhead coming to inspect today but do take care not to be too harsh to the girls…or Miss Bat." Amelia said calmly, retreating to a chair with a cup of tea she had entered with, choosing to ignore Davina's absence.

"I am not on edge." Constance snapped, ending the discussion by sipping her tea.

Constance could deny it all she wanted but even though on the outside she was icy and controlled but on the inside she was falling apart. Every part of her being trembled at the thought of seeing her tutor again and the other part of her was praying to every deity known that she would get through the day without seeing Imogen. One look from those green eyes and her exterior and hidden emotions would break and she would become as vulnerable as she was as a young girl…just what Mistress Broomhead would want to see her as. Lost. Helpless without her terrifying tutor at her side telling her what to do and how to do it. No doubt if she saw that, she wouldn't hesitate to try and take her back, mould her into the cruel witch she wanted her to be. Take her away from Cackle's and the girls and..Imogen. The thought of never seeing the woman who stole her heart was almost enough for tears to well in her dark eyes, never touching that soft tanned skin again, kissing her or even hearing her voice. No she wouldn't let that happen, she couldn't. Mistress Broomhead would see her strong, stable and icy, Cackle's would pass the inspection and she could begin work on winning Imogen back. Constance smiled into her tea.

"If you insist Constance." Amelia surrendered knowing she would get nowhere arguing with Constance over her feelings about their visitor.

Constance could truly be as stubborn as some of the pre-teen girls that attended the academy. Amelia knew little about Constance's life before she applied for potions mistress nearly ten years ago, but she had a strong suspicion that this Mistress Broomhead was more than a strict college tutor. The mere mention of her name had shook Constance to her core, caused her to flee the staffroom like a frightened mouse. Adjusting the glasses on her face, she made up her mind; she would find out as much about Heckitty Broomhead as she could during her visit and hopefully solve the mystery of Constance's hidden past. The woman was like a daughter to the headmistress and she had a keen sense for knowing when something was amiss, but a great talent for keeping her findings a secret. After all, Constance still thought she didn't know about her and Imogen.

"Thank you Miss Cackle. Mistress Broomhead did say she would be here at half past eight correct?" Constance asked, eying the clock uneasily.

"Why, yes I believe she did, why do you ask." Amelia replied, busying herself with organizing the papers on her desk.

"That should give us enough time to see to breakfast and send the girls to their classes." Her response was unnecessary, but then again her initial question was as well. She knew when Heckitty would arrive; she was only torturing herself further to count down the seconds until she was again in her presence. Those eyes that seemed to look into her soul and find fault in everything she did. Those eyes would soon judge everything about her and it terrified her.


End file.
